The Inner Universe

The only escape from the daily grind is found deep within our inner universes.

It occurs to me that the reason I often find myself depressed or perpetually disappointed with the actions of humanity is because I don’t have anything to make me forget the harsh realities of the world. Some people drink to forget, but I refuse to let my body or mind be influenced by an outside substance. Some people do drugs to forget, but I would rather have complete control of my thoughts than be a slave to some foreign chemical. Some people sleep with multiple partners to forget, but I would rather have control of my emotions and only give my devotion and complete love to my husband.

It’s funny how hard life is to live when you are forced to think about it. The curse of being a writer, an artist, a musician, or any other type of creator is that you feel too deep. You think too much. You question what shouldn’t be questioned. This isolates you as a person. We are all isolated. We are all seeking answers to life’s problems that don’t exist. We are alone. Without worldly things to distract us, our lives appear meaningless. Religion distracts us. Politics distract us. All these trivial things pile up in layers and try to turn our eyes from a truth that is not there to begin with.

Some people find pleasure in this confusion, in the unknown. A life without explanation to others is hell. I’m somewhere in-between. Everything in life is so predictable to me, yet even the predictable things still have the potential of surprising me at times. I have stripped myself of everything in the process of the last six years; no religion, no political party, no money, no job, no education; I’ve gone without it all. I have no labels, yet I find I can identify better with others than when I had all of these titles attached to me. I’m just me, take it or leave it. No more, no less.

I wonder if people can see those shinning flecks at night; the ones where, if you concentrate hard enough you can see the shapes of other worlds. No one besides me has ever said they can see them; see these windows into other worlds. I wonder if there are people that can sing with angels and bind evil in chains. The songs are mysterious and make me cry when I recite them; this music that our very universe was crafted from note by note. I wonder if people can see the supernatural, can feel people’s emotions, can catch glimpses of the future. If they could, they couldn’t say it. These things become the product of fiction and get buried in the public consciousness.

I wonder if others have been held in the arms of God. There are people that say they have, but one look at their eyes tells me they are lying. Perhaps all of the true things of the world are lost in time or burnt to the ground and only the false accounts of history and spiritual experience survive. We have an inner universe, you know. A universe that is more vast than the ones scientists spy in their telescopes. I think we retreat within our inner universes when we die. We can visit other universes and pretty soon everything becomes blurred.

We realize there is no meaning to anything because there are only distant stars of imagination guiding us. All the sensible people of the world are crazy. Have you ever noticed this? I think I am losing my mind because I have seen too many stars; too many shapes in the dark. I am glad that people can’t see what I see; many people couldn’t handle the truth. Yet this truth is what gives me freedom from the chains of this world. I would rather be alone and liberated than surrounded by illusions of reality, bound by the limitations of my own mind.

There are no words that can ever effectively capture what you mean. There are no actions that can out speak words; although some profess they are louder. There are no thoughts that can rationalize a word or an action. Writing is a sort of magic that springs from the soul and the hand and the pen or other writing utensil you are using. You can’t rationalize it. No science can explain it. Yet, in 100,000,000 years everything written will be gone. All people will vanish, or will be existing in another location or form. We are the aliens; the universe fears us.

Existence is freedom. Freedom is found within; in that inner universe that goes beyond understanding and often visits us in our dreams. We all live in it without realizing it is there. We are all Indigo, Star Seed, Crystal, and Rainbow Children. We are all changing reality from within.


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